


you deserve it, baby (you deserve it all)

by coykoi



Series: sing a little song my way [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Like so good, Peter is a good husband, Songfic, Spideychelle, and y'all should know it, that's what i like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/pseuds/coykoi
Summary: "Anything you want, just to put a smile on youYou deserve it, baby, you deserve it allAnd I’m going to give it to you."alternatively: michelle has a shitty day and peter is there to cheer her up
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: sing a little song my way [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921600
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48
Collections: The Spideychelle Shuffle





	you deserve it, baby (you deserve it all)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klassmartin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/gifts).



Michelle is tired—too tired from what should’ve just been a normal day at work. She didn’t sign up for this exhaustion that she seems to feel on a daily basis, but having a job as a journalist means backlash, and backlash is _tiring_.

With her hands full with takeout from the Thai place she stopped at on her way home, Michelle fumbles with the keys to the apartment, nearly dropping them one too many times.

She’s shaky and stressed and just needs some food. A warm bath, maybe, and a massage if she’s lucky.

As soon as Michelle opens the door, she’s greeted with the comforting waft of freshly baked bread and homemade pizza, much to her surprise.

Though, not as surprising as the candlelight that illuminates their apartment instead of the cheap lamps from the thrift store. Not as surprising as the black dahlia petals scattered all across the table.

There’s a fireplace flickering on the TV screen, and Michelle has to breathe out a laugh, knowing they could never afford a real fireplace. Not right now.

“MJ? You’re home already?” His words echo out from the kitchen, and while she loves the sound of his voice, she just wants to see his face.

“Yeah, I am. I, uh, even stopped by the Thai place we like to pick up dinner, but…” Michelle trails off as he emerges from behind the doorway in her sweatshirt, her pajama pants that pool at his ankles. 

Peter Parker, a certified dork for surprising her like this. 

“We can put it in the fridge for tomorrow.” He takes the bags from her hands and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Because I made you dinner tonight. Your favorite.”

“You’re really calling your homemade pizza my favorite?” Michelle asks, teasing, feeling her muscles relax as he guides her to the table.

“I know it is,” Peter tells her with a joking grin, bringing the pizza and bread over. Even pours her a glass of strawberry champagne. 

“Peter,” Michelle exhales, feeling a sudden wave of emotion overcome her out of nowhere. It’s just one of those nights. “What is this for? It’s not our anniversary, and I didn’t...I don’t—”

“Can’t a husband just do this for his wife from time to time?” he asks lightly, and while they could, they typically don’t.

_How many couples does Michelle know that do this for each other?_

_A very sad number_ , she thinks.

“It’s not really a normal occurrence.”

“Well, it should be,” Peter replies simply, kissing the top of her head when she sits down. “I know you know that I love you, but let me remind you occasionally.”

“As if every day isn’t enough,” Michelle jokes, feeling her lips tilt into a smile. “But thank you, Pete. I really...I needed this tonight.”

Peter gives her a small grin, shaking his head slightly. “Well, then I’m glad I did this and didn’t hold off like Ned told me to. Anything I can do to make things better for you, I will.”

Michelle blows out a breath of fond exasperation, ducking her head to hide her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Em,” Peter tells her, gently tilting her chin up to bring his lips to hers, their kiss melting into something more, something deeper. As she begins to pepper kisses against the column of his neck, he bites back a groan. “You know, the pizza is going to get cold.”

“Let it. We have an oven. A microwave. All of these candles to heat it up again,” she murmurs, nipping his earlobe.

After a split second of hesitation, Peter finally mutters, “Fuck it,” before hoisting her into his arms, carrying her over to the couch—the crackling of their fake fireplace being just the ambience they need.


End file.
